I Don't Want To Repeat My Innocence.

You've Got An Awfully Kissable Mouth.

To Write It, It Took Three Months; To Conceive It Three Minutes; To Collect The Data In It All My Life.

For Awhile After You Quit Keats All Other Poetry Seems To Be Only Whistling Or Humming.

Nicole's World Had Fallen To Pieces, But It Was Only A Flimsy And Scarcely Created World; Beneath It Her Emotions And Instincts Fought On.

It's Just Because I Love The Past That I Want This House To Look Back On Its Glamourous Moment Of Youth And Beauty, And I Want Its Stairs To Creak As If To The Footsteps Of Women With Hoop Skirts And Men In Boots And Spurs. But They've Made It Into A Blondined, Rouged-up Old Woman Of Sixty.